


A Wrench in my Plans

by chokeproof



Category: DCU
Genre: Hook-Up, M/M, mechanic AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 22:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11610315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chokeproof/pseuds/chokeproof
Summary: Wally West is tired of lonely nights spent tossing and turning in his bed alone, and he's even more tired about not getting some good ass for once. Is he on his way to getting both when he meets Jason Todd in a skeevy bar one night?





	A Wrench in my Plans

Life on your own kinda sucks, doesn’t it? I can list everything I have to live for on one hand. My ma, who for some reason has been supportive through all my endeavors and my Corgi, Benji. If I wasn’t around who would give him parts of my steak, rub his tummy, and tell him what a good boy he is like I do? No one, that’s who. I guess if I was dying to find another reason to live, it would be my auto shop as well. It’s no partner to come home to, but it does the job of distracting me.

For the past five years this is what I do with my days. Lay down on the greasy, oily floor with a wrench in my hand; under a car or a truck or a van. I don’t judge people for what they drive (unless you drive a smart car. Fuck you and your horrible taste. I’ll still fix your car though).

Oddly enough its mostly cops and politicians who come to my store for repairs. I’d call it a coincidence that it would be people like them aside from civilians that would choose to come to my shop, but it isn’t. I know exactly why they’re coming to me. The prick at the Midnighter is especially _cold_ to people like them. At least, that’s what I’ve heard. Story after story from his ex customers saying how they’d gotten kicked out of his shop, yelled at, and told to never come back with no explanation given. I just don’t get how you could turn any customers down, business is business, right?

The Midnighter is a whole other subject of its own. The guy who owns the place is my sole competition in the North End, and I was here before him! I’ve never met the guy, but I’ve driven by after closing time and seen it and _man-_ I’d like to say it’s an ugly little place but its… impressive. Two garages instead of one like mine, a sleek black exterior, a huge sign with the name of his shop on it and its twice the size mine is without counting the garage! Where did he get off setting up in this part of town, it was my territory! Now we’ve got to exist “harmoniously” and “work together” in a sense. But if you ask me, it’s a load of shit. There’s plenty of spots to open an auto shop that aren’t a five-minute drive from my garage, why did he have to single me out?

I wish I could say that I just push the thought of him and his store to the back of my mind, but I can’t. Truthfully, its one of the only things I think about during my work day. It motivates me to do an even better job than I normally do. You might be thinking, Wally, isn’t it a little pathetic to obsess over a guy who you don’t know the name or face of? And the answer, is yes. It is. But as I’ve previously stated, I don’t exactly have a whole lot to live for. The competition keeps me lively.

I’m not a drinking man, not normally anyway. I’m a lightweight who hates the taste of alcohol but on a day like today, one without a single break, I’m almost craving the buzz. Or perhaps the numbness that comes with it, seeing how my arms are loudly protesting with every movement I make. I’m not in the mood for a drunken crowd screaming their head off or anything fancy, so I pull into the parking lot of the first dive I see. The building is short and old looking, the front spotlight that lights the door is flickering a bit but I didn’t come here for the decorating, I came here to get pissed.

The interior is just as unexciting as the outside. There are two pool tables in the back with lamps overtop of them, outdated art lining the walls and a small counter that makes up the bar. The only other person in there is one man sitting at the counter by himself, hunched over with a glass in his hand. I can’t help but wonder if he feels as worn out as he looks. I sit down next to him and order my drink, a rum and coke. The man next to me chuckles and shakes his head when I take my first sip and slightly cringe.

“If you don’t like the drink why’d you order it, Red?” the stranger doesn’t even look over at me when he talks, just stares down at the hardwood counter and drinks away at what looks to be pure bourbon. I’m half intimidated and half interested.

“Don’t tell me you don’t drink just for the buzz sometimes. It’s not my fault it makes my mouth hate me.”

 I can’t help but feel my eyes drawn to the stranger, even when he doesn’t reply. He’s awfully cute, although I was right. He’s just as tired as he looks and I can tell, because I feel the same way he does. I clean the rest of my drink off and turn to face him fully before trying to act casual, ordering another drink.

“Long day? You look beat.” I’ve never been very good at small talk, but I don’t like to pass up the chance to chat up someone interesting, especially in a place like this. He turns to me slightly, eyes half lidded and not exactly a frown on his face, but not a smile either.

“You bet. I have to listen to people whine all day because i'm not doing my job fast enough for them and then whine some more when I’m not doing it the way _they_ want me to.” He takes a long drink when he’s done and I do the same. Oh boy, this guy is smashed, and by how much rum was in _my_ drink, I’m going to be on my way there soon. Does the bartender actually measure the alcohol or does he just kind of freewheel it?

“Aw, tough break. But I know exactly what you mean.” I can’t even begin to count the number of people who have done exactly that when I’m working on their car. Hello people! Why are you coming to a mechanic if you’re so sure you do the job better!? Why am _I_ the one holding the ratchet and not you? “Got a name, handsome?”

I just couldn’t help myself. Can’t even tell if the guy is into me but does that stop my big mouth? Apparently not! I guess I’ve said worse in the past when looking for a hook-up.

“That was quick.” He’s laughing and shaking his head again, as if he expected me to do this. I suppose it didn’t help that I was staring at him. Maybe he isn’t as drunk as I thought he was. “Do you always come to bars to hit on poor defenseless men like me?”

 My mouth hangs open in disbelief. I can’t tell if he’s serious or not, and I’m tempted to ask.

“No I- “

“Relax, Red I’m only teasing. I have eyes too, you know. I noticed you admiring. I’m Jason. You?” I feel the air rush out of my lungs when he confirms he’s joking. I’m being teased now, this feels like an actual conversation. Not just the robotic, repetitive dialogue I make everyday at work with my customers.

“Wally. You really had me going there, man.” I drink nervously, the leftover anxiety from that farce still lingering on a bit. “Guilty as charged though, I was admiring. I bet you get that often.”

“You’re right. Although, not normally from guy’s as good looking as you.”

 I’m only just now getting a good look at him as he turns to look at me as well. He still looks tired, but his smile has this undeniable charm and his hair is somehow immaculate. He’s got this rugged yet boyishly handsome thing going on too, and I’m crazy about that.

“I’ve gotta be honest, I really have no idea what to say.” Smooth. I would have lied but I have truly become so used to getting ignored at this point that my conversational skills are a little… rusty to say the least.

“That’s funny, I wasn’t thinking about talking.” It seems like he and I are on the same page. Only this guy just felt so... comfortable saying that. I’m beginning to think he’s done this before, many times. I probably should have realized that back when he didn’t even deny the amount of times people have “admired” him.

“…Do you normally just cut right to the chase like that, or am I an exception?” I know by now, I have this big stupid grin on my face as I talk. I can’t tell if it’s already the alcohol or if I’m actually, dare I say it, enjoying myself?

Jason leans forward, just slightly and motions for me to lean closer to him too, as if he wants to tell me a secret. I indulge him because I can’t possibly imagine what he would have to say to me right now that warranted this.

“Between you and me, I’m tired. And our friend back there-“he gives a slight jerk of his head towards the bartender who is standing behind him, seemingly cleaning out glasses. “Has prying ears. I don’t know about you, but I much prefer the privacy of my home.”

I slowly move my eyes up to look over his shoulder at the bartender who is in fact, leaning towards us so he could catch every word. A great uncomfortable feeling washes over me in an entirety, all at once.

“…You’re right. I’ll call a taxi.” I reach into my wallet and leave a twenty on the counter as I notice Jason doing the very same thing. What a shame too, I wanted to pay for him.

I make my way outside to call a taxi to the bar, and when I look up to find what street I’m on, I see it. The Midnighter. Even at night it haunts my mind, enough to make me drive over to it apparently. At least something good came out of it.

Jason comes outside and I’m floored to see we’re about the same height. I don’t know why, but he seemed shorter sitting down. Maybe because he was slouching. If I thought he was handsome before, I was wrong. He is assuredly hot as hell.

We pile into the backseat of the taxi when it pulls up in a screeching halt and Jason blurts out his address. Well, I guess we’re going to his place now. I heave a sigh of relief that we aren’t going back to my house, it’s a filthy mess at the moment, and with how busy I’ve been at work I haven’t had a second to clean.

“You look nervous.” I feel Jason’s grip on my thigh suddenly and shudder at the strength he possesses. He’s reading me like a book, am I really that obvious? It seems to be working out in my favor though, so maybe I should be an awkward dork more often. The whole fake cool thing seems to backfire more often than not.

“I- guess.” It would be a mistake to admit my recent lack of experience with encounters like this. That, or Jason’s already assumed it by now. “My mother told me never to talk to strangers, and now here I am. Take that, ma.”

All he manages is a snort in response to that, his hand beginning to move slowly up and down my thigh, causing me to dig my teeth into my bottom lip in a barely successful attempt to swallow an oncoming noise. It seems overdue when we stop in front of a tall structure I’ve deemed too average looking to be anything more than just an apartment complex. It wasn’t like he struck me like a guy who’d own a condo.

The elevator ride up to his seventh story apartment is muggy and silent. I can almost feel how thick the air is when I take a deep, steady breath. And there Jason stands still, as strong as an oak and looking confident in himself. This was the expression of someone who is a seasoned pro. My mind wanders only for a second to the possibility of my lack of experience being distracting but I’m quick to put that thought out of my head. Thinking too much on that track can only be bad for this experience.

                I’m shocked once we enter the apartment to see that everything looks to be as disorganized and messy as my place, however its difficult to tell because all the lights are off and I feel as if its going to stay like that. I hear Jason talking to someone who clearly isn’t me and squint my eyes enough to see he’s bent over ruffling the fur of what I’m presuming is his dog. Come on, that’s _too_ cute. Too bad I’m way too turned on to be able to appreciate that in all its adorable glory. I stop to pet the dog for a moment while we’re both removing our shoes.

                He takes my hand to guide me into his bedroom and I quietly apologize for every wall or piece of furniture I bump into on the way there.

                Before I know it, he’s already taking his clothes off and so I don’t leave him waiting I do the same thing. I sit down next to Jason, who I expected to lie down or to ask me to lie down, since he’s been in such a big old rush this entire time. Instead he grabs my face and pulls me into a hard, sloppy kiss. One of his hands moves into my hair, gripping it while he moans softly into my mouth. I feel his tongue poke out to coax my lips open right before his teeth sink down onto my bottom lip, pulling it only for a moment before releasing it again. I decide it’s time for someone to take charge, and it’s going to be me.

“Get on your hand and knees. Do you have anything on hand?” to my surprise, Jason listens and motions towards his side table.

I open the only drawer there and feel around blindly until I find a tiny bottle and squint at it to read what it says on it. Perfect, this is just what I was looking for. Now I have to decide, should I even blow the guy first? As much as I’d like to, I’m not in the mood to rut my hips against the mattress while I suck him off. Maybe if I weren’t already so uncomfortably turned on.

I squeeze a bit of lubricant onto my fingers, begin to rub it in and notice Jason is wiggling his hips. Is he teasing me? Or trying to make me speed up? Whatever his motivation, both of those things are currently working. I place the bottle down next to me to move my hand down, grip onto Jason’s ass with my other hand and slowly curl my fingers inside of him. The noise he makes sends a shiver through me, it sounds like a mixture of an airy laugh and a moan.

“Wally, holy _fuck_.” What a fine first time to call me by name. Hearing it fall from his lips heavily like it was dripping out sounds way better than I could have dreamed.

I continue to curl my fingers up into him, stretching him thoroughly (although I would be lying if I didn’t carry on for a bit longer than I should have just to hear his marvelous sounds) and pulled my fingers out, getting another unique whine from him.

“Please, fuck me. I need you, I’m desperate.” Who am I to deny him any longer? I get on my knees behind him, pick up the bottle and squeeze a bit more into my palm and grab my cock in my hand, rubbing it slowly and whimpering the entire time. When I finish, I place the bottle down once again and guide my cock into him slowly so I don’t tear him in half. I can literally feel his body tremble the entire time, he and I both giving weak shouts at the sensation. “Fuck- yes.”

Both of my hands grasp at his hips, holding them tightly in place while I start to thrust. I throw my head back, eyes closing while I focus on building a quick rhythm.

“Harder Wally, harder than that. You can do better babe.” Even though I’m the one taking charge, he’s stringing me along like a puppet and I’m loving every second of it. I don’t sacrifice the pattern I’ve built up for strength, speeding up my thrusts and increasing the strength of them with ease. All worries I ever had about seeming inexperienced have gone away, my thoughts too occupied for even a bit of anxiety over this.

“You fuck me so good baby, give me more!” he’s practically screaming at me now. One of the hands still clamped onto Jason’s hip reaches forward and takes a fist full of the other man’s hair, pulling on it sharply until he yelps and gives me an approving laugh. “I _love_ it Wally! I'm a slut for your big cock!”

Every inch of my skin is up in flames, I can feel the cold sweat running down my back and face as I relentlessly continue to fuck Jason. I can feel every word he moans and every scream he makes and that in turn causes me to give an equally loud or at times even louder scream than he does.

The hand in his hair moves for the final time up to my face as I spit into my palm, then lower it down to grab a hold of Jason’s cock and begin rubbing him off. He seems a bit out of breath but manage to tearfully thank me for touching him and moves his hips down into the motion of my hand.

I suddenly become acutely aware of the hot rock that’s sitting deep in my stomach that feels like its increasing in size with every passing second. It doesn’t surprise me that I’m already getting close, but its still disappointing.

“Jason- I’m gunna come!” despite my statement being so short, my voice breaks in the middle from all the screaming I’ve been doing. I speed up more, sacrificing my strength to up the pace of my now ragged thrusts, which have completely fallen out of my old pattern.

“Do it! Come in me!” I go slack jawed at the order and still manage to pump my hand as I feel the white-hot rock in my gut finally burst as I thrust awkwardly through my climax. Jason gives one finally, painful scream of my name and the two of us come together, trembling with unbelievable strength on both ends.

By the time I pull out, I’m completely spent. I flop down onto the bed, face down and feel my pulse thumping in my thighs and chest. When Jason lies down next to me, I weakly push myself onto my side to face him. He and I are both panting to catch our breaths but regardless of that, both still smiling.

“I was right,” he begins. “You are as good as you seem.” He places one kiss on my forehead to say goodnight, rolling over so that he might drift off to sleep. Exhausted from the work out, I decide its time to sleep as well.

I’m surprised the next morning to find that I’m not hungover. I’m shocked, as I had been preparing to wake up with a splitting headache and nausea but it seems like my lucky streak is continuing in a direct follow up to me bedding an impossibly hot guy. Speaking of said guy, where was Jason? I open my eyes fully to notice he isn’t in the bed next to me. I’m about to call for him when I hear the shower running and decide to let him get cleaned up in peace.

Ever curious, I peer around the room now that the sunlight pouring through the window made the room fully visible. I notice one thing, more prominent than anything else. He has a _lot_ of car posters taped to his wall. I smile from ear to ear, not only is he hot but we both love cars! I sit straight up when he walks back into the room with a towel around his waist.

“G’morning Jason! I couldn’t tell you like cars.” I say sarcastically, motioning around the room.

 Drying his hair with another towel, Jason laughs and sits down on the edge opposite to where I’m lying. “I don’t just like cars, I love them. It’s why I became a mechanic.”

At first, I feel a pang in my chest. What are the chances he would be an auto repair man too? Then, my blood runs cold as an image of the Midnighter when I was leaving the bar flashes through my mind. No. No, there’s no way. It’s all a crazy coincidence. Right?

“…Do you run the Midnighter down the street from where we met?”

“Keen observation skills, Sherlock.”

                Oh _no_ please, say it isn’t so. It isn’t fair! For a minute, I’m outraged. But Jason pipes up with a quizzical look.

“Why do you ask? You like ‘em too?” I'm speechless in response to the question. As much as I want to be outraged that I just slept and spent the night with my unspoken greatest enemy of three years, I can’t be. He’s too charming, too nice, too everything good in a person. I can’t even feign anger, because I feel none remotely. Why would I give up this over some petty rivalry that I’m sure he doesn’t even know exists, or doesn’t care.

“Jason, sit down and let me tell you about how much _I_ love cars.” This is going to be a long, long day.


End file.
